If I Die Young: A Fred Weasley Tribute
by akmdreamer
Summary: RIP Fred Weasley, beloved son, brother, friend, and, of course, prankster. We love you. Fred's funeral, from Ginny's POV. Songfic.


**DISCLAIMER: If I owned Harry Potter, I wouldn't be writing this, because Fred Weasley would still be alive. All rights go to J.K. Rowling. The song If I Die Young is by Band Perry. I don't claim any rights to that either. A/N: When I saw The Deathly Hallows Part 2, I knew Fred's death was coming, and promised myself I wouldn't cry. So, of course, I bawled my eyes out. We love you, Fred! :'(**

_If I die young, bury me in satin_

_Lay me down on a, bed of roses_

_Sink me in the river, at dawn_

_Send me away with the words of a love song_

_Uh oh, uh oh_

A black coffin, bearing one of my six older brothers is born down the isle, wreathed with roses red as blood, and draped in a Hogwarts and Gryffindor flag. Fred will be buried with the rest of the dead, on the Hogwarts grounds. Now, a sea of white tombs spills over the small hill on which Dumbledore's stood. Fred's grave has been dug, and my family, Harry, Hermione, Neville, Luna, Lee Jordan, Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnett, Oliver Wood, and others of my brother's many friends stand clumped around it. It is to be quiet, as Mum wanted.

I say nothing, but think about how Fred would have wanted it to be: A big party, complete with Weasley's Wizard Wheezes fireworks and bright colours, and butterbeer, and firewhiskey, and a Quidditch match to top it all off. Along with some pretty remarkable pranks popping up in surprising spurts whenever things got too quiet.

A celebration of life.

_Lord make me a rainbow, I'll shine down on my mother_

_She'll know I'm safe with you when she stands under my colors, oh and_

_Life ain't always what you think it ought to be, no_

_Ain't even gray, but she buries her baby_

Drizzles of rain misted the air, minuscule droplets gathering on my face and arms. It has been raining all day, and now, it is barely stopping. Above my mother's head, traced through the sky over Fred's grave, is the brightest, most vivid rainbow I've ever seen.

My mother bursts into tears, and I hold on to her as we both sob, her unrestrained, myself silent.

This isn't how it should be! This isn't right, isn't fair, not for Fred, not for our family or friends...but certainly not for my mother.

"He's okay, now, Mum," I say in a strangled whisper. "We don't need to worry anymore. He's safe now."

_The sharp knife of a short life, well_

_I've had, just enough time_

He made friends so easily, Fred. Everyone knew his name, everyone loved him, everyone admired him...He and George were like one person. And now half of the Weasley twins was gone.

He was the brother I most looked up to once Bill left for Egypt. He was half of the ultimate prankster team, yes, but he could also be remarkably mature and loving. He held me when I had nightmares after the Chamber of Secrets, he taught me how to throw a Quaffle when none of my other brothers would let me play, he showed me how to pick a lock, he told me bedtime stories, he ran through the rain with me, and never got tired of me, he taught me never to be afraid of thunder storms, or the dark, or being alone. He was my hero. He recruited me for pranks and held my hand when we went to St. Mungo's when I got Dragon Pox, even though it was contagious and he picked it up a week later. He wrote me letters every week when he went off to Hogwarts and I had to stay behind for two more years, and tried to send me a toilet seat when Madame Pomfrey wouldn't let him give it to Harry after the Philosopher's stone incident.

He was only twenty when he died, no where near finished living, but he died fighting, and he died after being one of the best people I'd ever know.

_If I die young, bury me in satin_

_Lay me down on a, bed of roses_

_Sink me in the river, at dawn_

_Send me away with the words of a love song_

_The sharp knife of a short life, well_

_I've had, just enough time_

The coffin is lowered slowly, manually, as the grave was dug, by Harry, my father, and my brothers. He deserves it. The labor, work, every drop of sweat.

_And I'll be wearing white, when I come into your kingdom_

_I'm as green as the ring on my little, cold finger, I've_

_Never known the lovin' of a man_

_But it sure felt nice when he was holding my hand, there's a_

_Boy here in town who says he'll love me forever,_

_Who would have thought forever could be severed by_

_The sharp knife of a short life, well,_

_I've had, just enough time_

I believe in Heaven. I have to. And if there is a Heaven, that's where Fred is going. He told me he'd always be there for me, he'd always love me and talk to me, he'd never tell my secrets and always tell me his.

Forever.

But what are we supposed to do when forever is cut short?

_So put on your best boys and I'll wear my pearls_

_What I never did is done_

Getting ready earlier this morning, as I curled a string of pearls he'd given me for my thirteenth birthday around my neck, tears clung to my lashes, and I tried not to think about everything I should have told him, every prank I should have pulled with him, every smile we should have shared.

It's too late to think about that.

_A penny for my thoughts, oh no, I'll sell them for a dollar_

_They're worth so much more after I'm a goner_

_And maybe then you'll hear the words I been singin'_

_Funny when you're dead how people start listenin'_

I'm asked to speak. I'm clutching a single red rose, the thorns cutting into my hands, piercing the creamy white skin, blood beading on my fingers, but I don't feel the pain.

At first, I don't know what to say.

I fumble to find Harry's hand. He's standing next to me, one arm slung around Ron in a brotherly manner. Our fingers connect, and I feel tears prick my eyes again as his larger, warmer hand closes around my small, icy one.

"Just say what you feel," Hermione whispers to me across Ron and Harry, reaching over to press her palm to my cheek and wipe away my tears with her thumb as her own fall hard and fast.

So I do. I talk to Fred, nobody else. I tell him everything I should have told him while he was alive. I tell him I love him, and how much I looked up to him. I tell him that I would keep every promise I ever made to him, and that I would mourn, but I would find my way to happiness with the help of my friends and family.

I tell him, with a tiny watery laugh, that I hope he's having fun with his idols, the Marauders. No one except for Harry, Ron, Hermione, and George understands, but no one questions either.

_If I die young, bury me in satin_

_Lay me down on a, bed of roses_

_Sink me in the river, at dawn_

_Send me away with the words of a love song_

_Uh oh (uh, oh)_

_The ballad of a dove _

_(uh, oh)_

_Go with peace and love_

_Gather up your tears, keep 'em in your pocket_

_Save them for a time when you're really gonna need them, oh_

_The sharp knife of a short life, well_

_I've had, just enough time_

Everyone who hasn't spoken yet pour out their hearts to Fred, their brother, friend, son, boyfriend...anything he had been to them. Tears blind me as each person picks up a shovel and begins scooping dirt over his coffin, but I push them away stubbornly.

"Save them," my father used to tell me when I'd cry. "There will be times you'll have to gather them up, so keep them with you, and you'll know when you need them."

Now is not that time.

Fred is happy, I suppose. He is no longer in danger.

So for the sole reason that Fred would want me to...

I smile.

_So put on your best boys and I'll wear my pearls..._

**A/N: *sob* Review...*sniffle*.**

**~PhoenixFlameGinny67**


End file.
